The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
by Seriously Sam
Summary: John Winchester was given a year to complete an impossible task or else his eldest son would be murdered.
1. Existentialism on Poker Night

Title: The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Summary: John Winchester was given a year to complete an impossible task or else his eldest son would be murdered.

_Part of __**"The Dark Horse"**__ series._

"**The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea"**

"**Chapter One: Existentialism on Poker Night" **

"I'll raise you two Oreo cookies," an eight-year-old Dean said as he pushed the two Oreo cookies, three Fig Newton's, and six M&M's into the middle of the kitchen table.

John glanced at his three of a kind hand and immediately knew he had lost. Dean never bid Oreos unless he had a full house or better. A twenty-three year old Caleb Lyons met the bid as his eyes glanced over at John and Sammy who would have to match or fold. Sam, growing tired of the game, snatched an Oreo and munched on it.

"Sammy," John said gently, "that's our currency."

The four-year-old boy looked up at his father with innocent eyes, black crumbs covering his lips and chin. He licked his fingers clean of cookie residue and smiled a toothy grin. The kid was trouble with a capital T. Shaking his head, John folded his hand. He was losing currency quicker than anyone at the table – thanks to Sammy's sticky fingers.

"My hand is not nearly good enough to fork over two Oreos," Pastor Jim announced as he too folded.

Oreos were like gold to the Winchester children. They loved the cookies more than any other treat in the world. Everyone seemed to understand that, except for Caleb. Either he had a really good hand or he did not fully understand the value of Oreos.

Dean laid his hands down on the table to reveal a straight flush. He grinned up at Caleb who looked like he swallowed a lemon. The older of the two threw his full house of kings and queens onto the table and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He obviously did not understand how precious Oreos were. Dean had a knack for card games that was growing increasingly annoying. Dean leaned forward on the table and grabbed all of the treats and pulled them into his large pile. He, by far, was winning.

"Dad?" a faraway, familiar voice called to him. "Dad!"

John blinked, the memory melting away. A more mature, twenty-five year old Dean sat across from him with a deck of cards hanging from his fingers. Sammy was gone completely – both the memory four-year-old version and the present day twenty-one year old version. John sighed, the bittersweet memory of poker nights long ago still fresh in his mind.

"You wanna deal or me?" asked Dean.

"Go for it," replied John.

Ever since John Winchester was twelve, he had played poker. His friends got together on the weekends and bet their baseball cards. When they got their first jobs, they played charity poker. In Vietnam they played for goods that reminded them of home. After the war, John played with his fellow married buddies and only bet chips with no monetary value. When he became a hunter, he played for as much cash as he could get his hands onto. Then, when Dean and Sammy became interested in playing, they played for candy and pennies. After Sammy had gone to college, him and Dean played for cash again.

One night, at Pastor Jim's ranch house in Blue Earth, they played with a thousand dollar buy-in. It was Dean's month to pick the buy-in, and he always picked the cap that they placed on the buy-in. The kid knew he could win most of the money with his poker face and ability to accurately count cards.

That night, Caleb and Joshua had joined in on the game. Caleb was bitching about the high buy-in, claiming he had two young kids at home now to care for. Dean merely shrugged him off and told him if he didn't suck so bad at poker than he would have nothing to worry about. Dean shuffled the cards, making perfect bridges with each shuffle.

"How are Avery and Dominic doing?" Pastor Jim asked as Dean passed the cards out.

"They're good. They're just as bad as Dean and Sam were growing up," Caleb responded and turned his attention to Dean. "If I found out you corrupted them, I will kick your sorry ass."

Dean chuckled and reached for his beer. Taking a long drag, he lifted the corners of his two cards and ignored Caleb completely. Instead of saying anything, Dean nudged Joshua in his side to bet or fold.

John leaned back in his chair, looking at his jack and two half-heartedly. His mind was not on the monthly poker game at hand. It was on his youngest son who was in his third year of college out in California. He had been hearing for years the whispers about what his youngest son was to become. The information was eating away at him as his son's twenty-second birthday drew closer and closer.

"Do you think fate exists?" John questioned as he met the bid.

"Whoa, Johnny, we having a metaphysical poker night?" asked Caleb as he looked over at Dean who merely shrugged in response.

"Nah, fate's bullshit," Joshua spoke up. "You have choices."

"Aye, yes, but as they say, all roads lead to Rome," Pastor Jim spoke up as he folded. "We have choices, yes, but do those choices really affect the outcome?"

Caleb stifled a chuckle and raised the bid. Leaning back in his chair and glanced over at John who folded. He propped his elbows onto the table and glanced between Joshua and Jim. They were the ones who were indulging the conversation.

"You don't think all roads lead to Rome, Cal?" questioned Joshua.

"How could it? You know my dad had a job offer to move to Texas when I was ten but my mom didn't want to leave Minot. If we had moved, the demon that possessed my brother would have been in Minot and possessed some other poor bastard. Then, I wouldn't be a hunter."

"Something else could have happened to drive you into hunting," reasoned the pastor. "There could have been a different catalyst in a different year."

"Are we seriously talking about this crap on poker night?" interrupted Dean. "I thought poker night was designed to talk about chicks and sports and hunting… not philosophical bullshit."

John glanced over at his oldest son. Part of him wanted to tell his oldest all about what would happen to Sammy in six months when he turned twenty-two. He wanted to tell his son that some sick ass demon had bled into Sam's mouth and marked him as some psychic.

"I, for one, quite enjoy a nice philosophical discussion on poker night," the pastor commented. "Listening to Dean and Joshua talk about their bedroom conquests is not something that I enjoy hearing about. Nor do I care to hear about your drunken nights at a bar hustling pool. You do understand that I am a man of God, correct?"

"According to you, Pastor Jim, our immoral behavior is fate," jested Caleb with a shit-eating grin.

"I would like to point out that I take full responsibility for my immoral behavior," commented Joshua. "What's that saying? Existence precedes essence."

"Are you quoting an atheist in my home?" questioned Pastor Jim.

"Not all existentialists are atheists," reasoned Joshua sheepishly, "but that whole existence precedes essence was one of the atheist ones."

John turned his attention to Joshua. The kid had attended Westminster College before entering the promising career of hunting. In fact, he was only months away from graduating when he dropped out. He had gone home on spring break and watched his kid sister get ripped to shreds by a werewolf. The kid tried to comprehend what he had witnessed, talked to a local pastor in his hometown who pointed him in the direction of Jim Murphy. It was hard to find a hunter who was not pointed towards the direction of the good pastor.

"You like philosophy, Joshua?" asked John.

"Yeah, I dabbled in it in college. I had a minor in it… well, I would have if I didn't drop out."

"Fate's bullshit then?"

"Depends on who you read. I don't know, personally, I find it hard to grasp the idea that we're just pawns on a giant chessboard who are going to end up where we're supposed to." Joshua shrugged and turned his attention to the pastor. "I'm not dissing God or anything. I was raised in a God-fearing household, and I may not be as religious as I used to be, but if God put us on this earth… why wouldn't he give us free will? Why wouldn't we be able to decide whatever the hell we wanted to decide? I mean, if all of our lives and actions are predetermined, what's the point of life? Why would God have created us?"

"That is an excellent question. First, John, don't get me wrong, I enjoy the debate you brought up, but why so curious all of a sudden?" Pastor Jim turned his attention to the younger man.

John shrugged his shoulder and took a swing of his beer. He'd been battling with the ideas of fate and free will ever since Mary had died. He thought about the choices he made that night. What if he hadn't fallen asleep watching television? What if he was sleeping in bed with her? Would he have gotten up to tend to a fussing Sam? Would he have wound up on that ceiling, bleeding from the abdomen, and Mary raising her boys far away from the life she hated?

More often than he liked, John had wished he was the one to die that night. The pain of losing the love of his life was too hard to bear at times. There were bad days when he would drink himself into a heap. Then there were good days when he thought he could gain the revenge he so desperately wanted. Revenge, however, was a fickle friend.

"I'm a deep guy, Jim," John replied with a tight smile. "What can I say?"

"What do you say, Dean?" questioned the pastor. "You have yet to voice your opinion."

"I think that fate is bullshit. Everyone has a choice to make their life the way they want it. Nobody says that I have to be a hunter, but I chose to be one. Sam was supposed to be a hunter, but he wanted some stupid political science degree."

Dean glanced over at Joshua, a scowl on his face. His friend had studied political science. Hell, he was the one who got Sam interested in politics, college, the whole shebang.

"Look, Sam was interested in college before he even met me," Joshua defended himself. "The kid was hell-bent on getting out of hunting. I do admit that he may of chosen the major he did because of me."

"What were you going to do with your degree?" asked Pastor Jim.

"Uh, I dunno. I was still figuring that out when I dropped out of school. I always thought a campaign manager would have been cool."

"You are such a dork," commented Caleb.

"I seem to remember you attended Valley Forge. Tough institution to get into."

"A long line of Lyons were military men – quite a few who attended Valley Forge. My dad pulled some strings. I was studying for an associate degree in criminal justice when I dropped out. At least that helps me in my grand career of hunting," snapped Caleb. "As least I didn't study philosophy and political science. Those are two crackpot majors."

There was a knock at the front door, and Pastor Jim excused himself from the table. Briefly, John wondered who else was coming for poker night. He trusted the pastor, Caleb, and Joshua to talk about such things. If something accidentally slipped, John was confident that the three would do everything in their power to help Sam. Other hunters, he wasn't so sure. The last thing he wanted was for his son to be hunted.

A minute later, Caleb's niece Kenley waltzed in with Richard Slane, who normally went by Rick. Kenley was Dean's age and had graduated from Portland State University with a degree in public administration two years ago. She quietly got her feet wet into the hunting world, usually tagging along with Rick or some other hunter on simple hunts.

Rick Slane was another breed of hunter. He came from a long line of hunters that traced back several great-grandfathers. The Slanes were good friends with the Harvelles – in fact, Hamilton Slane and Bill Harvelle had grown up together and even were hunting partners for years. The run-ins with the Slane family had been interesting to say the least.

When Sam and Dean were teenagers, they were hunting a string of random and strange supernatural occurrences. Hamilton had been hunting the same thing with his two teenage sons. The two families met and traded information. Dean and the eldest Aidan had hit it off and still keep in contact. Rick was another breed, however. He was close with Jo Harvelle, had dated her on and off for the past two years. It was no secret that Jo had confided in him about the death of her father. Ever since then, Rick had formed animosity towards John.

"What the hell are you doing with my niece, Slane? I told all of you little bastards that she's off limits!" Caleb shouted.

"Relax, Uncle Caleb, we just happened to arrive at the same time. You can see our separate cars in the driveway."

Kenley walked over and kissed her uncle swiftly on the cheek before grabbing a chair and planting it between Joshua and Dean. Rick took a seat in-between Caleb and Joshua, his gaze landing on John.

"Rick, I thought you were dating Jo?" inquired Joshua.

"Listen, I don't know who this Jo chick is, but I'd choose Kenley any day," Dean said with a smirk. Kenley leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"If only my uncle would let us run away together, we could hunt the supernatural, have lots of great sex, and have the most adorable babies in the world!"

Dean laughed and turned his gaze to Caleb who was scowling in his seat. After his brother Dominic died, Caleb had tried to be a father figure in Kenley's life. He constantly protected her and did all the things that fathers should do with their daughters. The most prominent was threatening any guy who so much as looked at her in the wrong way. The only guy Caleb felt semi-okay with her hanging out with was Dean, because he knew the kid would never dare make Kenley into one of his conquests since Dean and Caleb were close friends.

"I like all of that except the making babies part," commented Dean as he wrapped his arm her chair. "I'm all for some kickass hunting and great sex though."

Kenley leaned forward on the table, flicking her blonde hair behind her shoulder and glancing around the table absentmindedly. Her green eyes spotted the chips and counted herself out enough to cover her thousand-dollar buy-in.

"Do you ever notice that Kenley only comes to poker night when Dean's in town?" teased Pastor Jim.

"I only come for the big pots, which is the only time that Dean comes as well."

Kenley passed the chips to Rick who glared at Dean briefly before counting out his own chips.

"What have you been up to?" questioned Caleb to change the subject.

"I just finished a salt 'n burn with Bobby Singer," Kenley replied.

"You know I hate that fucker," commented John. "Why are you hunting with him?"

"I know, John, but I was in the area and asked him if he wanted to go hunting."

"Johnny, you and Bobby need to kiss and make up already," announced Caleb. "It's so irritating to be in the middle of your little spats."

"Do you know how many times that jackass has threatened to shoot my ass full of buckshot?"

John knew that Bobby was a trustworthy hunter. He had left Sam and Dean at his home more times than he cared to count. Hell, he had been hunting with Bobby a lot over the years – primarily when they first met. The divergence of their friendship often had to do with the Harvelles. Bobby and Bill were close friends. At first, John wanted nothing to do with the Harvelles and consequently offended Bobby. The biggest spat of all had been Bill's death. That effectively cut off all communication between the two hunters.

Bill's death had been a catalyst in more ways than one. It had made him more enemies than he even knew about. Bill and Ellen were beloved figures in the hunting community. The Roadhouse was a hot spot that was constantly packed with hunters of all ages. When whispers erupted that he had been hunting with John, hunters started to grow bitter towards him. Hell, the only hunter close to the Harvelles who hadn't blamed John for Bill's death had been Caleb. With that allegiance, Caleb had formed a few enemies of his own.

"What are you up to, Richard?" Pastor Jim steered the conversation away from the heated topic of Bobby Singer.

"Just hunting with some other hunters, watching their backs," Rick said as he shot a look towards John.

"Do you see what I see?" asked Joshua. "Not one, but two college graduates are at this table now. I feel as though our metaphysical conversation can commence once again with some highly educated individuals."

"Wait, you guys were talking about what exactly?" Kenley inquired with a smile dancing on her features.

"They were talking about free will versus fate," supplied Dean. "It wasn't exactly a typical poker night conversation. Way to bring it up, Westminster."

John shot Joshua a look that clearly read, _you fucking idiot_. John had no problem discussing this topic with Kenley. She had practically grown up with Sam and Dean. Hell, at the age of seven, Kenley and Dean had their first kiss together in one of those cute, awkward moments of childhood. John knew that she kept in regular contact with Dean. They were always talking on the phone. When she graduated college, Dean had taken her on her first hunt. It was a banshee in New York. He also knew she talked to Sammy too, because she had brought up his life at college up during poker nights or when she talked on the phone with Dean.

Rick was another story all together. He had no sense of loyalty to the Winchester family. His loyalties resided with the Harvelles, Singer, and other hunters who seemed to have a rocky relationship with John. The kid was smart though and resourceful. He didn't want to be a hunter for the rest of his life. He attended La Sierra University and gained a degree in psychology. Even though he rarely went on hunts, he did a lot of research for fellow hunters and provided safe houses. He quickly became disinterested in leading a normal life and quit his job to become a hunter once more.

"I believe in fate," Rick said nonchalantly. "I think that no matter the choices we make, we're still going to end up with the same ending."

"That's crap, Rick," Kenley added. "There are always different paths in life that render a different outcome."

"I think the crux of this argument is not free will or fate. I think it has to do with choices. Do choices matter?" questioned Joshua.

"Can we just play poker?" interrupted Dean.

"I agree. Let's just play the goddamn game," agreed Caleb. "We get together once a month to do this, and we're wasting it by talking about something that doesn't matter."

John gathered up the cards and shuffled. They might as well start a new deck because Kenley and Rick joined. Dean drained the rest of his beer and disappeared off to the kitchen to grab more. He reappeared with two bottles, handing one to Kenley.

"Are you trying to get my niece drunk and take advantage of her?" asked Caleb.

"What makes you think that I haven't already gotten lucky with her?" Dean said with a shit-eating grin.

"Because if you did, I will end your sorry ass life."

"Did you know that Kenley and Dean had their first kiss together?" Pastor Jim asked with a smile. "They were seven and at one of my church picnics."

Caleb groaned. He hated to hear the story of his niece's first kiss. Pastor Jim and Kenley's mother, Irene, had been over the moon and thought they were the cutest kids to ever live. It was no secret that they rooted for them to get together when they were old enough. Caleb knew better than to hope for that. Dean was such a horn dog.

"I remember that," commented Dean as he lifted the corners of his cards. "You forced me to kiss you. You practically raped me."

Kenley laughed loudly, her head shaking in the negative. She glanced towards John with a smile gracing her pale features.

"I swear, it didn't happen like that!" Her attention turned towards Dean. "You agreed to play house with me. I was the mom and you were the dad. That's what moms and dads do!"

"Yeah, but you conned me into playing with you," argued Dean. "I was just being nice and went along with it."

"You were a very nice little boy. I wonder what happened," teased Kenley.

Dean raised the bet by ten and turned towards Caleb. He mouthed the words _she's crazy_. Kenley saw and punched him lightly in the arm.

"Want to go hunting together, Dean?" she questioned as she met the bet.

"Sure, why not. What do you want to hunt?"

"You going to let them drive off alone in that muscle car?" questioned Joshua. "Bad idea. Dean's told me of his backseat conquests."

"You had sex in my car?" asked John.

Dean glanced up at his father, a sheepish smile working its way on his face. He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

"It's my car now. That's really all that matters."

"Just remember, Johnny, it was your choice to give Dean that car," commented Caleb, "not fate."

Dean groaned loudly as Kenley's cell phone rang. Joshua and Rick both met the bet and Caleb debated for several seconds before meeting it as well.

"Hello?" Kenley answered. "Oh, hey, you know I'm at Pastor Jim's right now playing poker with my uncle, Joshua, Rick, your brother, and your dad."

Dean and John both glanced over at Kenley. John's heart pounded wildly in his chest. Maybe something was wrong with Sammy. What if his psychic powers started early and he was deep-frying everyone that he touched? What if it was the beginning of the end?

"That's fine. I'll call you tomorrow. I'll tell everyone you say hi…. Okay, bye, Sam." Kenley snapped her phone shut. "Sam says hi."

Joshua, Caleb, and Pastor Jim all glanced between John and Dean. They knew things in the Winchester family were strained to put it lightly. The last time that John and Dean had seen the youngest Winchester was last year when a hunt cropped up in Palo Alto. They rushed to the college town before anything could happen to Sammy. That hunting trip had only further strained their relationship.

"Oh, I brought a couple cases of beer. John, can you help me get them out of my car?" Kenley asked she peeled the label off her own beer.

John nodded and stood up. His back cracked loudly as he ambled through the house to the front door. Honestly, he was glad to get out of the poker game for a little bit. The talk about Sam had made him antsy to say the least.

There was a gold 2002 PT Cruiser parked at the end of the driveway. They went around to the back of the car, Kenley's keys dangling in her fingers. John waited for her to unlock the trunk, but it didn't happen. Instead, he felt Kenley push him against the hatchback, her eyes swimming in blackness.

"John-John, I thought I gave you orders to kill a certain demon," the demon inside of Kenley spoke in soft tones. "I still see he's alive."

"Abaddon," John greeted flatly.

"I'd say nice to see you too, but it's really not. Sammy's twenty-second birthday is right around the corner. Azazel is going to capitalize on that."

"I can't find it. You think it'd still be alive if I could find it, you bitch?"

"Listen to me very carefully. Sometime during next year, I want you to find and kill Azazel. If you don't, my pretty little hand is going to find its way on Dean's pretty little forehead, and I will kill him. I am done playing games with you. I have given you years to complete this task and all you do is mock me. I don't know what Azazel's end game is with these psychics, but I doubt I'll like it."

"If I could find it and kill it, it would be dead. The fact of the matter is… there's no way to kill a demon. Trust me, if I knew of one, I'd kill you first."

Abaddon stepped back, her arms crossing over her chest. She looked down at the body she was possessing, a smirk gracing her features.

"I'll kill the meat suit if you ever try to kill me."

"You touch Kenley, and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"I know the demon that possessed Dominic Lyons. It was one of my men. You see, I suspected that Azazel touched Kenley the same way he touched Sammy. We wanted to find out why he's giving powers to these children. Beezlebub, well, he's a bit of an arrogant loose cannon. He went above and beyond the call of duty and things sort of… got out of hand. He's loyal though, so I keep him around. In fact, we visited Sammy one night too. We saw he was different than the other children. I can't figure out why."

John felt his heart beat against his rib cage. They had visited Sammy. When? What had they done to him? John closed his eyes, his mind wandering back to when Sammy and Dean were just kids. They had been staying in a cabin of Jefferson Kerr's when three demons had lured him outside. They tied Dean up in a chair in the living room and tied Sammy up in a bedroom. By the time he got back into the house, they were gone. Sam had been found unconscious, blood running down his arm with no apparent cuts, and the window open. Is that when she visited Sammy?

"You bitch, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands."

"_That_ would be something to see." Abaddon took a step forward so that their faces were mere inches apart. "Why don't you ask Kenley when she's back in control about her dreams… so vivid dreams of death and destruction. Maybe, just maybe, you'll start to believe what Azazel has been doing and kill him."

"You listen to me, you black eyed skank, leave Sammy and Kenley and all these other children you keep telling me about alone!"

"One year, John. That's all the time I'm giving you." Abaddon grabbed John's cheeks, fingernails digging into his flesh. "You are nothing but a cockroach to me. You and your boys are trash that I will gladly step on if you don't finish your task in time."

"Say I bite… how do I kill Azazel?"

"My colleague already told you. There's a gun crafted by Samuel Colt-"

"That's a legend!" protested John. "There is no goddamn Colt!"

"Fine, don't believe me. Find another way to kill Azazel. I don't give a damn."

Abaddon stepped back a few steps. Suddenly, her head shot up towards the sky and wisps of black smoke came pouring out of her mouth. Kenley fell to a heap in the driveway, her body convulsing for several seconds. John fell to his knees next to the girl as the cloud of smoke disappeared into the earth.

"Kenley. Kenley. Can you hear me?"

"J-John?"

John pulled the sobbing girl into his arms. He held her close to his chest, his mind reeling a million miles a minute. Her hands clenched John's leather jacket tightly as her body shook against him.

Suddenly, his answer on fate and free will was concluded. There were no choices. There was only fate. All of the shit that had happened to his family, to Caleb's family, it was all fate. It all happened for a reason. If Mary hadn't died that fateful night, he was sure now that when the demons came to inspect Sammy, he would have gotten into the hunting arena. It was only a matter of time before his path would reach Rome.

His heart ached painfully in his chest. Sammy… his baby boy was going to gain psychic powers and Azazel would come for him. There was no doubt in his mind that it was going to happen. His only wish was that there would be some free will left, that Sammy can make a choice to resist Azazel's influence. The last thing that John wanted was to kill his youngest son for becoming evil.

Lifting Kenley up in his arms, John made his way into the house. He shouted for Caleb to come into the living room. Except, everyone from the kitchen had scrambled into the room. Caleb rushed forward and motioned for John to take his niece to the guest bedroom. Everyone followed and soon the group of people filed into Pastor Jim's spare bedroom.

"What the hell happened?" snapped Caleb as he sat on the bed next to his niece, wrapping a comforting arm around her.

"She was possessed by a demon," explained John.

"What? Where is it? Its… its not still in her, is it?"

Caleb grabbed his niece's shoulders and held her at arms length. He searched her face, lingering on her green eyes longer than necessary.

"It's not in her anymore," John commented. "How long were you possessed?"

"I-I… not long. I remember walking outside to get the beer from my car. You were walking ahead of me and… I couldn't move. I could see you and I could feel my body moving, but I couldn't control myself."

"Why would a demon only possess a person for five minutes tops?" asked Dean. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Dean, Joshua, and Richard, I think you three need to wait in the living room," Pastor Jim said gently as he took a step towards Kenley.

"Are you kidding me? We're all adults here now," reasoned Dean. "Rick's twenty-four. I'm twenty-five. Josh's twenty-eight. You can't just tell us to go to the other room anymore. We're hunters. We're adults. We deserve to know what's going on."

John glanced at his oldest sternly. It was neither the time nor the place to argue. The demons were closing in. It was five minutes to midnight and the clock was ticking down quicker than ever.

"Dean, don't argue. Go to the living room now," John said sternly.

"Kenley, you okay?" Dean directed his attention to the girl on the bed.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

Kenley forced a smile on her face as she leaned her head against her uncle's shoulder. Dean nodded and ambled out of the room. Joshua and Rick were not far behind him. As soon as their footfalls were far away, Jim closed the door and locked it.

"It was Abaddon," John said flatly as he ran a weary hand down his face.

"She… she said she knew who possessed my dad," Kenley whispered.

The color drained from Caleb's face as he tightened his grip around his niece. Ever since he was sixteen, Caleb had been trying to forget the fateful days a demon possessed his older brother and nearly killed his family. It was honestly the most terrifying story that John had ever heard of why someone entered the hunting world.

"The demon's name is Beezlebub," commented John. "At least that's what Abaddon said."

"Beezlebub?" questioned the pastor. "As in one of the seven princes of Hell?"

"There are princes of Hell?" questioned Caleb.

"In some mythologies, yes. They are the equivalent to archangels in Heaven. Different lore states different princes or archangels, but the principles that they exist are fundamentally the same."

"Abaddon says Beezlebub is an arrogant loose cannon," added John.

"Beezlebub is all over ancient texts. In some archaic tomes, he was a deity that was worshiped in Ekron. In later Biblical tomes, he is identified as a demon and one of Hell's princes. He's been identified as being the demonic representation of gluttony. If what Abaddon told you is true, I would say that a very old and powerful demon possessed Dominic all those years ago."

"What would a prince of Hell want to do with my family? We weren't exactly the Brady's, but we weren't hunters," reasoned Caleb.

John turned his attention to Kenley who was being oddly quiet through the talk of Beezlebub. She was only a year old when her father died. The painful images did not burn in her memory.

"Kenley, do you have odd dreams?"

"What the fuck are going on about, Johnny?" snapped Caleb.

"What do you mean?" her voice waivered.

"Dreams that are really vivid… about death and destruction."

Kenley stiffened, her eyes widening at the very notion. Slowly, she nodded her head in the positive, tears silently pouring down her cheeks.

"John…" whispered Caleb.

The younger hunter didn't need to hear any more information. He had vague notions about Azazel marking children and turning them into psychics. He suspected Sam was one of the children but never cared to confirm. John kept him out of the loop, only giving the minimal amount of information. Never had he ever imagined he would be directly involved with this demon.

"Is there something wrong with me?" asked Kenley.

"I think we should call it a night and pick up on this issue tomorrow," Pastor Jim suggested. "Kenley, please, get some rest."

John and Jim exited the bedroom and made their way into the living room. Dean and Joshua were talking in low voices on the couch while Rick sat across the room in a chair. As soon as John entered the room, Dean stood up and motioned for his father to follow him into the kitchen.

"Is Kenley okay?"

"She's fine."

Dean nodded his head, his jaw tightening.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I'm twenty-five years old, I go on hunts by myself all the damn time, and you even said yourself that I'm the most responsible, trustworthy person you know. I don't understand why you're still kicking me out of the room. She's Caleb's niece. We've known her forever."

"I know, Dude. I'm sorry. I just look at you and all I see is you as a little kid. You still look four when I look at you. I forget sometimes that you grew up into a handsome, intelligent, amazing young man. I'll try to keep you in the loop more often. Just don't take it personally if I pull rank and kick ya out. It's only because you're my son and I will always see you younger than you are."

John clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder, a smile gracing his rough features. He had no intention of keeping that promise of trying to keep him in the loop. When it came to Azazel, John wanted to keep his children in the dark. He wanted to kill the bastard himself, to correct the wrongs that had been dealt to their family. He feared if Dean got involved, he would only wind up dead. That was the last thing that John could take.

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the story. If you were confused at all, it is because this story is part of a series. It is probably best to read "They Came at Night," "Crown of Thorns," and "The Dark Horse." I have tried to explain things in detail so that those stories are not necessary to read. However, it would be best to read those stories (and all of the "The Dark Horse" series) to fully understand and appreciate this story as a whole. Please leave a review. The next two chapters are already written, so the next one will be up in a week. Although, enough reviews would incline me to post it faster. :)


	2. The Man Comes Around

"**The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea"**

"**Chapter Two: The Man Comes Around" **

"Dad!" Dean shouted, a smile dancing on his freckly face.

His five year old was holding a flapping goose in his hands. His arms were stretched as far away from his body as humanly possible as he squinted his eyes in the bright sun to see his father a mere few feet away. John was sitting on the freshly cut grass, baby Sammy cradled in his arms.

A small girl next to Dean squealed loudly, her toothless grin flashing at the boy who was merely a few months older than her. The goose struggled in the five year old's grasp, a shrill _haaaannnhh_ escaping its elongated beak. They were enjoying a nice summer day in Blue Earth, Minnesota in the backyard of Pastor Jim Murphy's home. A manmade pond resided a quarter of a mile away from the back of the house and a few geese waded around in the water. One braved the shore, only to be snatched up by the toddler.

"Put the duck down before it bites off your and my niece's faces!" Caleb Lyon's snapped at the younger boy.

"If I was holding a duck, I would," retorted Dean, a shit-eating grin spreading wide across his face.

It was late August and the air was growing bitter each day. That didn't matter to John Winchester, however, because August was a glorious month. Merely a few weeks ago, his eldest son had started talking again. After the tragic death of his mother, Dean refused to talk for months. John feared that he would forever stay mute.

"It's a goose, Uncle Caleb!" Kenley Lyons giggled as the animal made more noises.

"Look at that, Johnny, they're only five and are already smartasses," muttered the twenty-year-old.

"_Dean_," John said the one-syllable in a stern, warning voice.

Immediately, Dean sat the goose down who rushed into the pond and glided towards its kinship. The tiny boy looked up at his father with wide eyes. John smiled reassuringly at the boy who upon knowing he wasn't in trouble, turned towards Kenley to play.

"That's how you deal with misbehaving children," announced John with a smirk.

"Instilling the wrath of Johnny Winchester? I'll have to try that next time."

Dean and Kenley were sitting on the edge of the shallow pond, their feet soaking in the cool water. Kenley giggled as the small fishes swam between her toes. Dean tried to grab a fish with his fingers, no doubt so he could throw it at the girl next to him.

"You excited for tomorrow?" asked John.

"Hell yes," replied Caleb. "I've been training for months with Bulldog Bobby. I'll be happy to go on a hunt without the training wheels."

"Just remember, I pull rank. I'm older and I was a military man."

Caleb and John were going to do their first official hunt in the morning without their mentors. John had trained with Daniel Elkins in Manning, Colorado while Caleb trained with Bobby Singer in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Their first hunt without their mentors would be together, so they could get the lay of the land and watch each other's backs.

John looked down at the wedding band on his finger. He twisted it idly, his gaze resting on his calloused hands. Closing his eyes, he thought of Mary's face - so beautiful and so young. She didn't deserve to die the way she did.

When he opened his eyes, there was snow on the grass and the pond was frozen over. The crunching of snow underneath boots could be heard behind him. Turning around, he noticed his twenty-five year old son walking towards him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"You wanna talk about last night?" he asked.

"What about it, Dean?"

"Kenley told me what happened. That some demon named Abaddon possessed her and it knew you. Why you befriending demons?"

John glanced over at his son, wishing for the first time that Kenley and Dean weren't such good friends. Dean never made a lot of friends while in school, because they moved around so much. Sam always made friends at every new school, had a book filled with names and phone numbers from every friend he ever made. The only people Dean allowed himself to get close to were fellow hunters – Joshua, Caleb, Kenley, Pastor Jim.

"Last month, while you and Josh were hunting together in Oregon, I went on a demon hunt. There's no way to kill a demon, Son, so I did the best I could. Guess my exorcism was a little shaky," John lied.

Dean sneered, and John immediately knew that his eldest son didn't believe him. Glancing back at the frozen pond, John thought about new ways he could find Azazel. He'd been looking for the demon for years and nothing seemed to give him a lead. The task to not only find the demon but kill it as well seemed like nearly impossible. John did not know what he would do if Abaddon came for Dean. He had no way to stop her. An exorcism to hell would only piss it off more than before.

"Dad, what's going on?"

John couldn't look at his son and lie to his face. The fact of the matter was, if he looked at Dean, all he would see if a grinning five-year-old holding that damn goose and smart-mouthing Caleb. When John looked at his sons, all he saw were little kids needing protecting.

"John?"

Turning around, he saw Kenley standing behind them with her arms wrapped protectively around her torso. Her blonde hair hung loosely around her porcelain face in thick strands. A medallion of a devil's trap was strung around her neck. Thick, black glasses were perched on her small, button nose.

"I'd like to talk about my dreams with you."

"We'll talk later, okay, Dude?" John addressed his son.

Dean said nothing. His gaze landed on Kenley who was refusing to look at him. With a scoff, Dean abandoned the pond and made his way back to the ranch. John took a few steps towards Kenley, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"When did they start?" asked John.

"About a month after a turned twenty-two. I… I was in class. I just got this headache, the worst headache of my life. I saw Dean and Josh. They were hunting in the woods… chasing a black dog. The dog knocked Dean down, took a bite out of his shoulder. Josh shot it several times. Then it was just over with. I thought I had dosed off in class, had a bad dream. Two days later, Dean calls me and told me about how he got a new scar on his shoulder from being bite by a black dog. Wanted me to see it to see if the girls would dig it."

"Are you dreams often about Dean?"

Kenley shook her head in the negative. She sniffed, her gaze resting on John's boots.

"No, I've had a few, but nothing big. Sometimes it's Josh. Something it's Uncle Caleb. Sometimes it's Rick. A lot of the time it's… strangers. People I don't know."

John ran a weary hand over his face. The words the demon said to him rang in his ears. If Kenley could become a psychic at age twenty-two, then why couldn't Sammy? What if this Azazel bastard had tainted them both? His only saving grace in the whole situation was that Kenley was still normal. She hadn't gone bat-shit crazy and started murdering people.

"What's wrong with me, John?"

"Well, I'd say you're psychic."

"I think there's more to that than you're saying. Uncle Caleb… it's like he's afraid to look me. Like he knows something I don't. It all started when you told him about the demons last night."

It started to snow. Light, fluffy snowflakes rained from the sky and assaulted them. John looked at Kenley's face long and hard. His gaze lingered on her pale, green eyes. Part of him expected them to turn black.

"Caleb hates demons ever since your dad. I think he's just scared for you," John partly lied.

A part of him believed that Caleb was deathly afraid that some demon would possess his niece and force her to hurt her family – just like Beezlebub did to Dominic. Another part of him believed that Caleb was scared that she was psychic. He had been hearing whispers about demons visiting baby's nurseries and training them to be disposable heroes for years. The very idea that Kenley could be on of those children probably unnerved him. Hell, the fact that his son could be one of those children unnerved John more than he was willing to admit.

"You know… I've never heard the whole story about my dad. It's taboo in the Lyon's household. Nobody outside of our family will talk to me about it. Pastor Jim and Bobby always tell me it's not their place. All I know is that my dad was possessed by a demon and it forced him to hurt my family."

"What else do you want to know?" asked John. "You want the gritty details? Trust me, kid, you don't want to know the gritty details."

"I have a right to know though. He was my dad…"

"Look, Kenley, Dean knows that something supernatural killed his mom in a fire. That is the extent of knowledge. But the details… they're horrifying. What I saw that night still gives me nightmares. What Caleb saw that night your dad died, it still haunts him to this day. You're lucky you don't remember. Leave it be."

John walked pass her, his gaze resting on Pastor Jim's ranch house. There was no time to talk about sad stories and lament about the past. What he needed was to concentrate on was the impossible task that was laid out before him – find and kill Azazel. He would not stop until he knew both of his sons were safe from the clutches of demons. Only then, would there be peace.

Over the next ten months, John and Dean hunted less frequently together. Dean would go on regular hunts with Joshua, sometimes Caleb, and a few times with Kenley. Even though the hunts with his father were becoming less frequent, Dean always met with him after the latest hunt for a day or two until they would part ways again. Every month, they found themselves in Blue Earth, Minnesota for the monthly poker game. Not once did Dean ask his father why he was seeing less of him.

John suspected that Dean liked to go hunting with Joshua because he could pull rank. Dean had been exposed to the supernatural his whole life, had been involved with simple salt and burn hunts since he was seven. Joshua had not entered the hunting arena until he was twenty-one years old. He was the only hunter that Dean trusted to hunt with who was less experienced.

The reason that John did not allow his son to hunt with him as often was because he was hunting down Azazel's psychics. He found some of them working as professional psychics, reading tea leaves and working with the police when they have an actual real vision. He allowed them to live, lead their life as normal as they could. If they fell off the wagon, he would not hesitate to kill them. So instead, he wrote their name down in his journal and scribbled detailed notes about each and every one of them.

There was one psychic he met who could electrocute a person with a single touch. Some of the victims survived while others were not so lucky. A few of them had heart attacks and died anywhere from a few days to weeks later. The damage was not repairable. John found the guy – some gothic twenty-five year old that was killing anyone who had ever mocked him in his lifetime. His mother had died in a house fire when he was six months old, so John knew he was dealing with one of the babies that Azazel had visited.

John broke into the kid's house late one night while he was sleeping. With the butt of his rifle, John insured the kid would wake up anytime soon. He tied him up, tightly with various lengths of ropes. Once the kid came through, John had questioned him.

"I hear you've been killing people," commented John.

He pulled up a chair and straddled it. His arms were folded on the back of the chair as he stared at the kid who struggled against the bonds that held him. A few choice cuss words escaped his lips in a hiss.

"Has Azazel contacted you?"

"Fuck you, old man!"

"I'm not messing with you, kid. Do you know anyone named Azazel?"

"Why the hell would I tell you?"

The kid spit in John's direction, landing just short of his chair. Standing up, he grasped the gun that was situated between the small of his back and the waistband of his jeans. He flicked off the safety, trying to communicate to the kid that he wasn't kidding around.

"I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me if a man named Azazel came to see you."

"And I'm going to tell you one more time to go fuck yourself."

John pointed the gun at the kid. He could tell the kid was scared, his knees bouncing with urgency and his eyes wide as saucers. Cocking his head to one side, John gave him a few moments to contemplate what would happen.

"It's your funeral. Save me a seat in hell, won't ya?"

"DON'T!" the kid yelled, his voice cracking. "He said he had plans for me!"

John lowered the gun, flicking the safety on. That was more like it. Tears stung the kid's eyes, but he was trying his best to keep them from falling.

"What are his plans?"

"He said… he said I was special. He said he wanted me to be his soldier, to lead an army. He told me to prove my loyalty by killing anyone who had ever wronged me."

"An army for what?"

"I don't know."

John raised his gun again, the safety coming off in one swift motion.

"I don't know! I swear! Please!"

"Anything else?"

"No… I swear, Man, that's all I know."

With that, John pulled back the trigger four times. Each bullet hit him squarely in the chest. The kid didn't even have time to scream or register what was happening. Luckily, the gun had a silencer on it, so the neighbors wouldn't call the cops. He decided to leave the body for someone to find and he left. There would be no prints, because John made sure he wore gloves the entire time. The gun, well, he'd ditch the gun later.

John hauled his frame into his truck. Turning over the engine, Johnny Cash flooded the speakers. _There's a man going around taking names_. Bile rose in his throat, the image of the light leaving the boy's eyes was a haunting sight. _And he decides who to free and who to blame_. The kid was a supernatural freak, a murderer, there was no way that he could allow the kid to live. He was on a vendetta to kill anyone who had ever wronged him in his life. _Everybody won't be treated all the same_. Pulling out of the driveway, John thought about where he could ditch his gun. It was unregistered, so it couldn't be traced back to him. _When the man comes around_. John thanked his lucky stars that he knew a weapons dealer who sold on the black market exclusively to hunters.

Five states over, he found another psychic whose parents did not die in a fire. In fact, he wasn't even entirely sure if the kid was one of Azazel's or not. He didn't really have time to ask. He had to kill the kid quickly.

If John hadn't been in the town square at the time of the incident, he didn't know if he would have believed what had happened. He was interviewing a shopkeeper whose roommate had been murdered. He walked in on the murder, watched as a fresh wound appeared on his friend's shoulder and blood splatter. Except, there was no one there. There were just blood spots hovering in midair. John was about to conclude the interview when people started to scream. One, two, three people were down on the ground bleeding to death. John rushed through he people, looking for the culprit. There was no one. That's when he felt it, some invisible mass bump his shoulder as it ran pass. Whipping around, John could have sworn he saw red blotches moving in midair.

It took him three days to figure out whom the invisible man was - a twenty-three year old who escaped from a mental ward. The kid had paranoid delusions, told his shrinks he could become invisible at will. One day, they found his clothes in a heap in the back stairwell and he was nowhere to be found. No security cameras caught footage of him leaving, the guards could not remember seeing anyone leave the building who matched his description. It was like he had just vanished under everybody's noses.

It was a miracle that John even found him. After interviewing some people who went to high school with the kid, they said he was always picked on by a group of five bullies. Three of the bullies were dead. John assumed the kid was killing off his old high school bullies and anyone else he found fit to kill. John just happened to pick the right bully at the right time. The invisible man had already started to torture his next victim.

When he walked into the house, a paintball gun in hand and his pistol situated between the small of his back and jeans waistband, he saw the fourth bully blubbering on the floor with various cuts all over his body. John shot the paintball gun in rapid succession over the victim. They connected with the invisible man and left a giant, green splotch hovering in the air.

Dropping the paintball gun, John grabbed his pistol quickly. In one swift movement, he unclicked the safety and aimed for the green. There was a loud _thump! _and suddenly the naked body of a man appeared on the ground.

On the end table was a cell phone. John grabbed it and called 911, telling the operator that there was a man with multiple stab wounds and the one who did it was dead with multiple gunshot wounds. Snapping the phone shut, he threw it onto the couch and high-tailed out of the crime scene with both his guns. He didn't need to worry about prints, because he ensured he wore gloves.

After the hunt, John met up with Dean two states over. When the Impala pulled up in the diner parking lot, Dean hauled his frame out of the car and a smile was planted across his face. His cell phone was attached to his ear. His son laughed loudly, his eyes scanning the parking lot for his father. When he spotted the familiar black truck, he ambled his way over to it.

John exited the truck and watched Dean walk slowly towards him. Suddenly, the events of the previous day slipped from his mind. He had to kill the kid. He just hoped that Sam would not fall victim to Azazel like some of the others had. Sam was smart though, and John had faith that his son would choose the right path.

Before Dean closed the space between him and his father, he snapped his phone shut and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. When Dean was close enough, John reached out and pulled the kid into a bone-crushing hug. With three pats on the back, John pulled back and stared at his son with a soft smile gracing his lips

"Whoa, why are you being such a chick?" questioned Dean with a smirk.

"Shut up," John snapped back playfully. "Can't I miss my son?"

"Yeah, of course, Dad," he replied slowly. "It's just… you're not really the Danny Tanner hugging type."

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" John decided to change the topic.

"Caleb. Avery asked him to call us to see if we'll go to her school play in two weeks."

Avery Lyons was six years old and had grown to enjoy the Winchesters just as much as her father did. She had, in fact, taken a special liking to Dean who was always willing to play silly games with her whenever he saw her. In fact, just last year, he began to teach her how to count cards and explained to her the fine art of salting and burning a spook much to Caleb and Riley's displeasure.

"School play, huh?"

The fact of the matter was, John had not been to a school function since Sammy had been in middle school. Sam was always the one getting involved in school activities while Dean avoided them like the plague. Being in a school auditorium would only bring back bittersweet memories.

"Yeah, an evil gnome is cutting down the magical trees of a faraway land. A knight and his men have to save said trees for the princess. Avery plays a tree in danger of being cut down by the gnome." Dean let out a laugh. "It sounds very stupid, but the kid's excited."

"If there's no hunt, I'm game."

"Dad, come on. Everyone is gonna be there."

John sighed. Dean was always close to the Lyons, Pastor Jim, and a select few other hunters. However, ever since Sam went away to college, Dean had been obsessed with trying to fill the gaping hole that his brother once filled. Therefore, he made the Lyons' children school activities a priority. He made a point to be involved with Caleb, Josh, Kenley, everyone else's lives. He was constantly trying to replace the void in his life, but he never could. That made John's heart ache.

"Who is everyone?"

"Josh, Kenley, Irene, Pastor Jim, Rick, Bobby."

"Bobby is going?" groaned John.

"Yeah, he did save Caleb's life once upon a time, so they're pretty close. We can sit on opposite ends."

John nodded, he could tell that Dean wanted to go more than anything but would never admit to it. He also suspected that Dean might not go by himself, so he knew he would be wrangled into going to the play rather or not he was on a hunt. As nice as it sounded to have a night off with friends, Abaddon's looming warning repeated like a broken record in his head.

"We'll see, Dean."

"You know, when we were growing up, Caleb went to almost every single school event that Sammy had. Caleb and Pastor Jim were always in the front row with us."

"Dean, I said I'd try. You want to go grab some grub or what?"

The next two weeks went by quicker than John thought was possible. Instead of taking a hunt, he researched patterns of demons. His first thought was perhaps signs would crop up when a demon was in town. If there were warning signs, maybe he could get to the town quick enough to find the sonofabitch.

He started with Lawrence first by looking at everything under the moon that happened there a month before and a month after Mary's death. A week before her death, there was an abundance of cattle death. The temperature fluctuated wildly day-by-day. There was even an unusual amount of electrical storms that occurred. He crossed checked every single other area where the demon had visited other children. It was the same. How did he never see this before?

When Avery's school play rolled around, John gladly went. He wanted to talk to Irene Lyons. When her husband died, Irene did not break out into the hunting world like Caleb and his father had. She did not want to put her baby girl in any danger or risk her becoming an orphan. She, however, wanted to help in the good fight. She trained under Pastor Jim who had shown her how to research and help hunters from a base camp. It was mostly what the disabled hunters did – the ones who got damaged during a hunt or got too old to effectively hunt. If anyone could successfully track the odd occurrences, it was Irene.

"Hey, I got a job for you."

John stood next to Irene. They were watching Dean tickling Avery, the girl gasping for breath and laughing as she tried to squirm away.

"What do you need?"

"I need you to search for these omens," John said as he handed her a piece of paper. "As soon as any of this stuff starts happening, I need to know. I have a small window of opportunity to get there in time."

"Cattle deaths? Electrical storms? Temperature fluctuations? John, what are you hunting?"

"Dean!" the blonde six-year-old shouted as she successfully got away from him. "I surrender! Surrender!"

Dean put his hands up in the air, a smiling gracing his freckly face. He separated his ring finger from his middle finger to make some Star Trek sign of peace. Avery made the sign back before closing the space between them and settling on the couch. Dean was on his knees by the couch.

"A demon."

"A demon?" questioned Irene in a low voice. "John, I've never heard of a demon invoking these omens before. Trust me, I was trained by the best."

John looked at the woman. She was short with long, strawberry blonde hair. Her green eyes were stern, her mouth drawn in a thin line.

"You were trained by the best," he agreed. "Jim's the most knowledgeable hunter I know."

"Then why are you asking me to do this for you? Why not him?"

"Jim's close to Dean, alright? Jim was always telling them shit that I didn't want them to know. I like the guy, he's one of my best friends, but I don't want him on this." John gave her a stern look. "You're not to tell anyone about this. Not Caleb, not Kenley, nobody."

"Okay… I can do that." Irene glanced away from John, her gaze resting on Kenley who was sitting on the couch next to her cousin and Dean. "Who did you train with? Nobody ever talks about it."

"Daniel Elkins."

John glanced at her sideways, not knowing why exactly she was asking. She didn't really get involved in the hunters' politics. She just did her research and provided hunters with a lot of assistance.

"I'm guessing you're not close to him, because he doesn't really run in our circle."

"No, the guy's a bastard and a half," John said bitterly.

He remembered Daniel Elkins like it was yesterday. He was a hell of a hunter, smart and resourceful. He was also the best teacher that John could have asked for. He learned more in his time with Elkins than most hunters did in the same time frame. Except, the kinship between the two men ended swiftly and abruptly. Elkins told him to ditch his kids, said he couldn't be a great hunter and worry about two brats. He said kids only complicated hunting, fucked up the best hunts. John grew irate. His children were the only thing keeping him sane. Without them… he'd turn into a hunter just like Benjamin Seraph. That was a fate worse than death.

"I never understood how Pastor Jim chose mentors for hunters," Irene spoke softly. "Caleb and Bobby seemed like an obviously fit. They both got into hunting because of a demon. I trained with Pastor Jim, because I wanted in on the research side and that's what he specializes in. I never understood why Joshua was placed with you though… or why you were placed with this Elkins who you had a huge falling out with."

"I thought you didn't get involved in hunting politics?" John asked with a soft grin.

"I'm worried about Kenley," she admitted. "She seems to be spending a lot of time with the Slanes since she graduated. I don't know if I particularly like her training under them."

"The Slanes are good hunters, Irene. They've been hunters for more generations than I can count," reasoned John. "Plus, she's twenty-five, I think her training is over with."

Irene snapped her head towards John. He could understand Irene's concern. Her daughter was parading all over the American frontier with salt and silver being her weapons of choice. Each time Dean hunted on his own, John can't help but feel relief when he meets up with his son afterwards – to know that everything worked out okay. It was nerve wrecking as a parent, but the cord needs to be cut at one time or another.

"I'd rather her hunt with Caleb," she admitted. "At least I know he'd have her back. I would even take Jim pairing her with someone, but he doesn't think she needs training because she grew up in this life."

"Can't say I blame you for wanting that," commented John.

"I heard about what happened a few months ago… about the demon possessing her."

John couldn't bear to look at her. Instead, he watched Avery and Dean. Dean was playing a card game with her at the coffee table. They were going slow, Avery pausing between every move. John had no doubt she was practicing her card counting skills.

"The demons that possessed my husband and my daughter… can you figure out their omens too?"

"Yeah, I'll start on it right away. We have a name, Irene, and that's always a start."

Irene nodded her head, unshed tears brimming her eyes. Without another word, she disappeared off to compose herself. John watched his son interact with Avery. He couldn't help but think that his eldest son would have made a great father, the kind of father that wins Father of the Year. He was so good with kids. John's heart ached in his chest. Dean would never have a chance to become a father.

A few hours later, John sat at the end of an aisle in an auditorium. Dean sat next to him, and he leaned over to his left to talk to Kenley who sat next to him. It was May, and that meant that his year was almost half up. He needed to find Azazel and he needed to do it quickly.

He barely watched the play. Instead he thought about what he would do when he found out the demon's location. He had no idea how to kill a demon. The only defense he had against one was a Devil's Trap and an exorcism that would send it packing to the pit. Except, things could crawl out of the pit, so he didn't really see that as a viable option that would appease Abaddon. Hell, it wouldn't appease him. He wanted to see the damn demon dead.

When October rolled around, John finally had an opportunity to find Azazel. It was one o'clock in the morning when his phone rang. It was Irene. There had been omens of the demon in Goldfield, Nevada. With only a month and a half left to complete the deed, John had never felt so confident.

He would have to ditch the Woman in White in Jericho. He jotted down a few coordinates in his journal. It was the hunt he was going to go on after he finished the ghost the following day. Ruffling through his journal, he stopped on his pages about the psychic children. He ripped them out and stuffed them in his jacket. He left his research up on the walls and extended his stay at the motel. Dean would certainly look there and find his stuff.

After hitting the road, going down the stretch of road where the Woman in White claimed her victims, he called Dean to come pick up the hunt. He got put through to his voicemail. Part of him was glad he got the voicemail. That meant he didn't have to explain why he was up and leaving a hunt quickly. It meant that he wouldn't have to explain where he was going or what he was doing. He could keep his kid in the dark for a little while longer.

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Only two more chapters to go! Each chapter takes weeks of thought and days of writing. So, please, take a minute to leave a review. :)


	3. Crossing the Rubicon

"**The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea"**

"**Chapter Three: Crossing the Rubicon"**

"Would you both just _stop_?" a twenty-two year old Dean pleaded through clenched teeth.

Dean was breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his sides. A seventeen-year-old Sam's brow was furrowed, unshed tears stinging his eyes. John felt his heart beating a million miles a minute within his chest cavity. At any second, he was certain his heart was going to beat right out of his body. This was the worst fight that the Winchesters had ever found themselves in.

"You make it sound like I'm going off to commit suicide!" protested Sam.

"You practically are! You'll be a sitting duck out there all by yourself!" shouted John, his face feeling hot.

"It's college, Dad! When you were my age, you were signing up to be in the fucking Marines! You marched off to a thankless, bullshit war!" Sam matched his father's tone. "I'm going to California to be nice and safe at a college!"

If John weren't so concerned about the kid's safety, he would have punched him in the face. He had never felt the desire to lay a hand on one of his kid's before, but Sam was just so goddamn infuriating.

"Don't you dare mock my service, Samuel!" John said in a low growl. "I risked my neck to serve my country!"

"Dad… Sam… can we just sit down and talk about this calmly?" asked Dean as he situated his body in-between the two feuding Winchesters.

"Yeah, Dad talking calmly. That's rich, Dean," snapped Sam.

"Shut the hell up, Sam!"

"No, I'm sick of this! Mom's dead, and we're never going to find the thing that killed her! You've been searching for the past seventeen years and have found nothing!"

John advanced forward, closing the space between him and his youngest son. Grabbing the kid by the front of his shirt, John shook him roughly. Her lips were pulled back, bearing his teeth.

"Don't you fucking talk about your mother like that!"

"She'd hate you for this, you know. The way you raised Dean and me. Hell, Dad, I hate you."

John let the fabric slip from his fingers, his ache aching painfully in his chest.

"You wanna go off to college so bad, huh, Samuel! Then get the hell out of here!" barked John through clenched teeth. "If you leave right now, don't you dare even think about coming back! You walk out that door, I don't want to see your ungrateful face ever again!"

"Dad!" crocked Dean, his eyes wide with fear.

Sam merely sneered at his father, grabbing his two bags by his feet. He marched towards the front door without another word. Dean scrambled after his kid brother, his voice pleaded for Sam to just _stop_. The kid didn't stop, however, he ambled out of the crap-hole apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. John swore, his breath hitching in his throat.

The adrenaline he felt at the beginning of the fight had left his body completely in one swift moment. The impact of his words slammed into him like a relentless wave. What had he done?

Sinking into the lumpy couch, John buried his head into his hands. He had officially pushed his youngest away. Fear gripped him that maybe he had lost both his sons when he heard the Impala's engine turn over. He had never meant to cut Sam out of his life. He just wanted to scare the kid enough to force him to stay with his family. There was no way he could protect Sammy if he wasn't with them.

A phone rang, jolting John out of his dream. His back ached painfully as he found himself bent over a table. Sitting up straight, John glanced over at his cell phone to see Dean's familiar number shining on the screen. He ignored the call and glanced at the paperwork spread across the table.

Goldfield was a small town. It was an unincorporated community with a little over 400 people in its population. He thought for that reason, it wouldn't be hard to find the child in the community who was born six months previous. He was dead wrong. In fact, he couldn't find any child that was born in Goldfield exactly six months previous. John only concluded that a family had moved to Goldfield within the last six months. That information was harder to come by.

The week came and went. There were no house fires, no deaths of a parent. John had not found the baby who had been marked by Azazel. Two days before the week was up, John got a phone call from Irene saying that new signs had cropped up in Palo Alto, California. He couldn't help but curse and ram his fist through the drywall.

John drove straight to Palo Alto, only stopping to fill up his tank. When he arrived in the college town outside Sammy's apartment, there was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if Sam would not listen to him? What if he would not believe the amount of danger he was in?

Walking up to the second story, John knocked on the front door. A pretty blonde answered the door. She wore a T-Shirt that read 'Stanford Psychology' and a pair of jeans. Her curly hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her aqua eyes glimmering in the light.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a voice sweet and smooth like molasses.

"Is Sam here?"

"No, you just missed him. He left last night."

"Where did he go?"

"Uh… he went with his brother to go find their dad…"

John let out a sigh. They were both on their way to Jericho where they would be safe from the demon who was coming to town. The pretty blonde narrowed her eyes at John, her mouth quirking.

"You look familiar," she stated as her eyes searched his face.

"I can assure you that we've never met."

"You're Sam's dad, aren't you? He has pictures of you and his mom."

A lump formed in John's throat, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded his head in the positive. There was no point in lying to the girl. Hopefully, when Sammy got back, the girl would tell him that his father visited and call. He could warn him to watch out for the omens and beg him to ditch the town to save himself.

"They went up to the cabin to see you," she said slowly. "Dean said that Sam needed to go with him to fetch you."

"Yeah, I, uh, called Dean saying I needed some help, but a family friend came to help out. Guess I forgot to call him and tell him there was no need to come."

"Do you want me to call him?"

"Nah, I'm heading out that way now. Let them have some brother time. They haven't hung out in awhile."

With a goodbye, he ambled towards his truck parked outside the apartment building. Sliding behind the wheel, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Sammy was not in Palo Alto, and he would most likely not be back by the time Azazel came to town. His youngest was safe with his big brother. Dean would do anything to protect the kid.

Not even a week later, Dean called again. John did not have the heart to pick up the phone. Instead, it rolled to voicemail. When the phone beeped to tell him a voicemail had been left, John punched in his code and listened to his son's voice.

_"Dad, I don't know what you're doing and I don't even really care. I just want to know you're alive. Please, Dad, just call me back. Sammy is on the road with me. I think whatever killed Mom killed Sam's girlfriend. She was on the ceiling and burst into flames._ _I… yeah, just call me."_

It was the end of November when he found out where the demon was going to be again. It was Mesa, Arizona. Shifting through hospital records, there were nearly two-dozen babies that would be six months old in the next week. John couldn't find out which kid it was, although he knew that Azazel had been there.

There was a house fire where the mother had perished. John talked to the husband who said the baby monitor became overwhelmed with static. His wife had gotten up, walked to the nursery. She was gone a few minutes when there was a horrific scream. He ran out of bed and rounded the corner to see a fire starting in the nursery. He hurried in, grabbed their baby, and ran. He couldn't find his wife anywhere. She had been gone. When John asked him if he looked up at the ceiling when he entered the nursery, he said he did. It was where the fire had originated. When John asked him if his wife was on the ceiling on the nursery, the guy told John to fuck off and leave his family be.

When December first rolled around, John realized he only had two more weeks to kill Azazel before his year was up. The only thing he could think of doing was to summon Abaddon and prey to all that was holy for it to work out the way he planned. Summoning a demon alone was dangerous. John had done it before but wanted back up for this particular demon. Therefore, he called Caleb on the hunt.

"You know Dean and Sammy have been asking me if I knew where you were," commented Caleb as they drew the Devil's Trap and got everything ready.

"I wouldn't doubt it. I'm sure they called Jim too."

"They did," he admitted. "Then he called me and asked if I've talked to your sorry ass. He said he hasn't talked to you since… September. That's when you stopped showing up for poker."

John looked up from the floor where he was painting the Devil's Trap. Caleb took personal offense whenever someone missed a poker night without a good reason. To miss four poker nights in a row, it was unforgivable. It was the only time that the hunters could sit down and forget about all of the shit that had gone down within the past month. To be honest, John had always looked forward to poker nights ever since they started them nearly twenty years ago. It was nice to have downtime with his kids and play a good game with friends. Dean was always eager to play.

"I've had a lot of shit going on, Caleb. Get over it."

"You know, Johnny, I've never asked you questions about the crap that you do. I kept my mouth shut and just did whatever you asked of me. Mostly, I did it because when I met you I was nineteen years old. I was in awe of you. A suburban dad turned hunter who always kept his calm during a hunt because of his military training. You remember our first hunt together? It was a Woman in White. Your face was… stone cold the whole time. I wanted to _be_ you."

"How touching, Caleb," John snapped as he continued with the trap.

"I'm forty-one now, man. I deserve some answers from you."

"Yeah, well, I'm fifty-one, Caleb, and I still pull rank."

The younger hunter scoffed but said nothing more. When John was done with the trap, he double-checked the shotguns to ensure they were all loaded with rock salt. He looked into all the barrels of holy water to ensure that they had all been blessed by looking for the rosary beads.

"Why are we summoning it, John?" asked Caleb. "You need to tell me before we summon the bitch. I'm going to find out sooner or later."

"I've told you all about Azazel and his psychic kids."

"Yeah, you tactfully told me Kenley was one of those psychic kids a year ago. Funny how time flies, isn't it?"

"Sam's one too."

"I wish I could say I was surprised, but I kinda expected he was ever since you told Jim and I all about Azazel and shit."

John glanced over at Caleb briefly before turning his attention at the summoning ritual he had found years ago. The last time he tried to summon it, it didn't appear. Instead, it sent another demon in its place to talk. John didn't exactly know how it resisted the summoning ritual. The only explanation was that it was one powerful sonofabitch.

"Abaddon gave me a year to kill Azazel or else it would kill Dean."

"What? Why?"

"Honestly, I don't even fuckin' know. I've had so many demons tell me so many different things, that I don't even know what to believe anymore. From what I understand, Abaddon believes that Azazel wants to take over hell with its special psychic army of disposable heroes and wants to put an end to it."

"Then why doesn't Abaddon just waste Azazel? Why make you a middle man?"

"Because that bitch likes to play games! Every time Abaddon decides to come to me, it has a new game to play."

Caleb didn't say anything. Instead, he cocked his shotgun and nodded towards John to start the ritual. He spoke his Latin loud and clear. A gust of wind entered into the abandoned warehouse. John held down the pages to the book just so he could read them. His voice rose as the gusts picked up. Then suddenly, everything went quiet.

Heels clicked on the cracked cement floor. A young woman in a tight, blood red bandage dress walked into the room. Dark tresses hung in elegant curls around her face. Bright red lipstick clad her lips. She walked towards the two hunters, arms crossing over her chest.

"I can't decide if you're just stupid or suicidal," the woman said in a voice that was sharp like a bee sting.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, well, ding dong, I already figured that out." Her azure eyes glanced over at Caleb. "I see brought your lackey with you - a Lyons no doubt. How charming, Jonathan."

"I want an extension," John demanded.

"An extension? What do you think this is? A homework assignment?"

John clenched his shotgun tightly in his hands. He and Caleb moved to the other side of the Devil's Trap. It was fruitless protection, but it made him feel slightly better about the situation.

"I've been tracking the sonofabitch for a year. I haven't been able to beat him to a location."

"Let me get this straight," Abaddon took a step forward. "You don't want me to kill Dean-o just yet? Because you need more time to complete the objective I gave you?"

"That about sums it up," John replied with a shit-eating grin.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the demon spat. "I don't give extensions or care that you're trying your hardest! You need to start doing the best of someone better than yourself! You got two weeks to do it or else I'm going to torture Dean nice and slow until he bleeds out! Then I'll rip him limb from limb!"

Abaddon took a step forward, and that's when Caleb pointed his shotgun at her. He took a shot and hit her directly in the chest. At the same time, John shot above her at a bucket of holy water hanging from a beam. The holy water drenched her. She screamed and steamed. That's when John and Caleb rushed forward, grabbing a pure iron chain off the floor and wrapped it around the demon.

John locked the chain around her when Caleb grabbed a trunk with Devil Traps painted on every inch of the inside. Shoving her inside, they slammed the trunk shut and locked it. Then, they wrapped more iron chains around the box.

It took them nearly two hours to dig a hole big and deep enough for the trunk to not be found anytime soon in. The grave was so deep that John had to give Caleb a boost just to get out of the hole. Then, he through down a rope and braced himself as John climbed out. They shoved the trunk into the earth and piled the dirt back on. Abaddon was locked away for hopefully a long time.

"I couldn't have done it without you," John thanked him.

He wiped away the sweat that was accumulated across his forehead. Caleb only nodded, his own chest heaving at the hard work.

"I'm too old for this shit," he commented.

"Yeah, well, you're the only hunter I trusted to do this with," commented John. "I'll buy ya a beer."

John thumped the younger hunter on the shoulder who laughed in protest of his aching body. The hunters packed up their gear and piled into the truck. The warehouse and Abaddon's buried body quickly disappearing in the rearview mirror.

"Listen, Caleb, don't tell Dean and Sam about any of this. I try to keep them in the dark about this kind of stuff."

"Why don't you let them in on the know-how? Dean's going to be twenty-seven next month. Sam's twenty-two and watched his girlfriend die the same way his mother did. They're good hunters, Johnny, you'd be lucky to have them digging your enormous graves."

John's grip tightened around the steering wheel. They were good hunters – especially Dean. Dean was smart and resourceful. Hell, John had been amazed more than once at how good his eldest was during a hunt. Sammy was a smart kid too who could be as good of a hunter as his big brother with a little practice. They truly did grow up into two great young men.

Except, they were his children. They still looked like small children whenever he saw them. He worried about them constantly, worried that some monster could take them down. If anything happened to them, John wouldn't be able to live with himself. So, instead, he treated them with kid gloves and kept them out of the loop as much as he possible could. The less they knew, the better off they were.

"You'll understand when Avery and Dom start hunting," commented John. "They'll be adults, and you'll still see them as they are now."

"God, that's a terrifying thought. I'll be in my sixties twenty years from now. Even scarier, you'll be in your seventies. We'll be grumpy old men shooting ghosts full of buckshot in our wheelchairs."

John laughed out loud. The image alone was a shitty one to say the least. He hoped by that time he could retire from hunting and live a quiet life. Maybe Dean and Sam could get married and have kids. He'd like grandkids. He could watch them when the two went out hunting. Maybe their wives would be hunters too. That would make everything easier. A huge family of Winchesters all hunting the things that go bump in the night. It was a nice thought.

In a bar on the outskirts of Lincoln, Nebraska, John bought Caleb a beer. They sat in the corner booth underneath the shadows and reminisced about the good old days when they first started to hunt. One beer turned into two beers. Before they knew it, they were each both on their sixth beer and feeling a little tipsy.

"Remember when Dean turned twenty-one? Josh and I took him out to the bar for the first time officially? He was so freakin' excited."

"You don't know the half of it. I promised him we were going to have a nice family dinner and celebrate with a beer. Then I told him on the morning of his birthday that I had a job I had to go on. I was going to drop them off at Jim's. He had never been so pissed at me before."

"I remember that. He walked into Jim's with the most sourpuss look on his face. He was sure surprised when he realized you were taking him to a party."

John drained the contents of the sixth beer. He didn't give his sons a lot growing up. They never had a house or grand holidays. They were always low on cash, so their shopping was almost always done at the Salvation Army or at a discount store. There were a lot of times that John wasn't there for the important moments in their lives. Except, he did the best that he could with what he had. He was always there on their birthdays. He was always there on Christmas and Thanksgiving.

He could remember one Christmas when he almost didn't make it home when Sam was eight and Dean was twelve. It was nearly eight at night when he burst through the doors of the shitty apartment they were staying at with gifts and Boston Market. Sam had rushed to greet him, hugging him tight. Dean hung back, a frown etched on his face. When he asked what was wrong after Sam had settled onto the couch to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_, Dean had told him about how Sammy had found his journal. Sam knew bits and pieces of hunting. He had never known how exactly his mother died, that their dad did it for a career, that they were in constant danger.

"You going to see the boys for Christmas?"

"Dean and I haven't celebrated Christmas since Sam went away to college."

"Yeah, but Sam's a drop out now just like Josh and me. You can start it up again."

There was nothing else that he would have liked more in the world than to have Christmas with his boys again. Except, he had been missing from their lives for months now. He hadn't returned a single phone call or tried to meet up with them. He had become obsessed with Azazel and Abaddon. The demons had overtaken his life in ways that John couldn't even begin to comprehend. He was so close to victory that he could taste it. The last thing he wanted was to get Dean and Sammy involved in the fight. He wanted them as far away as possible, safely hunting spooks and other creatures of lesser value.

"I don't think they're very happy with me right now," commented John with guilt lacing his words.

"Oh, Sam's pissed that you're not returning their calls. Dean's more worried than pissed. I still think they'd put that all aside for Christmas. Besides, Sam was always pissed at you for something growing up, but he always forgave you on the holidays."

"Because he wanted presents," John said with a laugh. "One year, I had a wreath made out of beer cans. Every year after that, I tried to find one. Dean loved those things."

"Those were cool wreaths. They were so badass."

"They were…"

"Look, if you're not gonna see your kids for Christmas, then I'm gonna invite them over. Dean hasn't seen my kids or me ever since you went off the grid."

John couldn't say that he was surprised that Dean stopped seeing his hunting friends. His father was gone and his kid brother was back. Dean always put his family first no matter what. His happiness for his family? No contest. Family always was the trump card.

"I think that's a good idea. I'll be knee deep in research."

"You're such an asshole, Johnny."

"Excuse me?"

"Your obsessions are put before your kids. When I was younger, I totally understood it. Hunting was everything to me. Revenge was like this parasite that ate away at you. Then when Avery was born… it was like something clicked in my brain. Hunting over my kids? It was just insane to even consider it. I don't understand how you do it."

"At first, it was hard. I was always there for them when they were little. If I couldn't be there, they always had a place to go. As they got older, it was easier to put hunting first. They could fend for themselves. They were capable of understanding. Dean did. He understood. Sammy… I think he never understood, because he didn't remember. Dean and me can remember the heat of the fire on our skin, remember that night like it happened yesterday. Sam never got it like we did. He was spared those memories. Now, with his girlfriend's death, I think he gets it."

"The point of no return. Every hunter's experienced it."

John reached beside him to grab his leather jacket and shrug it on. He fished through the pockets to find his car keys.

"You're not driving," commented Caleb. "I'll call Riley and have her come get us."

"I'm good. I gotta get going. I can't be crashing at your place."

John stood up and suddenly the room started to spin. Blinking a few times, he placed a hand on the booth to brace himself. Suddenly, Caleb was standing behind him with his phone attached to his ear. He was talking to Riley no doubt. He felt Caleb take the car keys from his fingertips.

Twenty minutes later, a 2003 cherry Jeep Cherokee appeared outside of the bar. Looking inside, John saw Caleb's pretty brunette wife. He couldn't tell if she was amused or pissed with the situation. He didn't really ask. He just slid into the backseat while Caleb claimed shotgun.

When they arrived back at the quaint two-story home, the kids were already in bed. John claimed the couch immediately, grabbing the afghan off the back of the couch. He curled up into a ball and fell asleep nearly instantly.

The next thing he knew was that tiny fingers were poking his cheek and neck. Cracking an eyelid open, he saw five-year-old Dom Lyons looming over him. The kid looked creepily like his father with his blonde hair and shocking baby blue eyes. John couldn't help but groan as the kid continued to prod him.

"I'm not cattle, Dom," he told him in a stern, cracked voice.

John coughed and tried to clear his throat. He felt like death warmed over. He hadn't drunk so much, so quickly in years. They had only been at the bar for an hour and half tops. They were slinging back beers like they were young and in college.

"Never said you were," the little boy protested with a slight pout.

Struggling to sit up straight, John felt his head pounding. The little boy took the sitting up as an encouragement to join him on the couch. This time, he was able to suppress his groan.

"Dom, why don't you go wake up your sister and dad?" a familiar female voice rang.

John looked up at the doorway to see Riley standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. She gave her son a warm smile, her gaze resting on John's haggard appearance.

"OKAY!" the boy screamed in John's ear.

He winced at the loud noise and watched as Dom scampered out of the living room. Loud footfalls could be heard as he took the steps as quickly as his little legs would allow him. Riley stepped into the living room, a concern look crossing her face. She was always annoyingly interested in everybody else's life. He blamed the social worker in her.

"Caleb told me you two summoned and trapped a demon." She took a seat in the nearest chair.

"Yeah, the bitch has been giving me troubles for years."

"You sure you trapped it good enough where it won't come out and bite both our families in the ass?"

"We'll be long dead when the demon gets out. Trust me."

Riley nodded, her hand finding its way on the nape of her neck. She squeezed several times, her eyes downcast. John stood up from the couch, every bone in his body cracking loudly in protest. He felt like he was getting older with each day that passed.

"He told me it was the demon that possessed Kenley last year."

"Caleb freely gives out too much information."

"I'm his wife, John. I just want to ensure that my kids and niece are safe. Just like you always want to make sure Dean and Sammy are safe."

"Everybody is safe, Riley, now can we please just stop talking about it? There's a reason I went AWOL. This is one of the reasons. I don't need everyone questioning every single move I make."

"You're playing with fire, John. It's only a matter of time before they burn you and the ones closest to you," snapped Riley. "From what I understand, demons are nasty creatures. They go after everyone you ever loved."

"I need to head out. Tell Caleb I'll be waiting outside for him. He needs to give me a ride to my truck."

With that, John exited the house and stood on the front porch. It was a bitter morning, so he zipped his leather jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets. He wanted to get the hell out of dodge, call Irene and see if she picked up any more omens lately. At the very least, get to a motel room and search for omens on his own. Even though Irene was searching constantly for omens for him, there was always a chance that she could miss one. It was a lot of work, so that's why it was nice to have another person searching for the same thing who wouldn't ask any questions.

Caleb came out five minutes later with a scowl etched on his face. No doubt Riley tattled about his rude behavior. Honestly, he didn't mean to snap at Riley the way he did. He was just tired, hung-over, and stressed. When Caleb dropped him off at the bar, he told him to call if he needed anything else. John just nodded and hopped into his truck without so much as saying a word.

He drove two cities over and found a motel off the interstate. He booked himself a room and rifled through all of his information on the demon. He started looking for the weather patterns and omens. He called Irene to see if she had any news, but she had found none.

Over the course of the next few months, John went all over the great American frontier finding house fire after house fire. As the months wore on, the omens cropped up faster and closer together. John could never make it in time to save any of the families.

The calls from Dean and Sammy did not stop either. One phone call he got was from his eldest son saying that they were in Lawrence and something was in their old home. John rushed to Lawrence but hid in the shadows. He felt a great urge to run up to his sons and hold them close to his chest in a bone-crushing embrace. The part of him that wanted to protect his boys from the hunt for the demon that murdered their mom suppressed that urge.

After awhile, John finally called them on a payphone. He called Dean's cell and it rang a few times. Except, when the call was finally answered, he was not greeted by his oldest son's voice.

"Sam, is that you?"

The kid immediately asked him if he was hurt, if he was okay, and where he was. John closed his eyes, the phone clenched in his hand. Part of him wanted nothing more than to tell them where he was, to have them join him. He wanted his boys back more than anything else in the world, but it wasn't safe for them to be with him.

"Sorry, kiddo, I can't tell you that."

Sam, naturally, questioned why. Sammy was always asking questions. When he was younger, the questions flew from his mouth a mile a minute. Over the years, he forgot how Sam always demanded answers. It felt so good just to hear the kid's voice again that he admitted that the thing that killed their mother was a demon.

_"A demon? You know that for sure?"_

"I do. Listen, Sammy, I, uh… I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I'm so sorry. I would've done anything to protect you from that."

The death of a significant other was not something he would wish upon even on his worst enemy – especially not in the horrific way Mary and Sam's girlfriend died. Part of him wanted to tell Sam how pretty she was, how sweet, but thought better of it. He didn't want Sam to know he was anywhere near Palo Alto days before his girlfriend died. If the kid knew that his father knew the demon was going to be there… it would tarnish their relationship forever.

Sam questioned if his father knew where the demon was. John confirmed that he was closing in on it. It was only a matter of time before he got to one of the houses in time. Irene and him were getting better at tracking the bastard.

"Listen, Sammy, that's why I'm calling. You and your brother, you gotta stop looking for me. Alright, now, I need you to write down these names."

Josh had called him about the hunt, couples going on road trips and never arriving. They were never heard from again. He asked John to take the case, because he was knee-deep in a witch case in Oregon that was taking longer than he expected it to. In fact, he was already calling Caleb in as reinforcement. Instead of taking the case, he said he'd give it to Sammy and Dean. It was a good hunt to keep them occupied. Except, Sam didn't want to hear about the case or write down the goddamn names.

_"Dad, it's me. Where are you?"_ Dean's voice rang on the other end.

"Hey, dude, it'd good to hear your voice, but you gotta stop lookin' for me Alright?"

_"Yes, Sir."_

"I'm going to give you some names. I need you to write them down and look into them. You have a pen?"

_"Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?"_

John gave him a list of names and retold the story that Josh gave him a few hours previous. Dean took the hunting information professionally and didn't ask what the hell had been happening for the past few months. John could always rely on Dean with things like this.

"How have you been?"

_"I'm good, Dad. Are you alright? You going to tell me what's going on?"_

"I'm fine, Dean. I'm just hunting the demon that killed your mom. I don't want you and your brother involved. I just want you safe."

_"We're safer as a family."_

"Not this time. This demon is one strong, evil sonofabitch. You'd only get hurt. Keep your head down and watch out for your brother."

He got a second phone call of urgency. This time, it was from Sam. Dean was sick and was dying. Sam was trying to figure out a way to save him. The words rang over and over again in his mind. He needed to do something. In fact, Sam left him a few messages on the matter. Except, he didn't listen to the other ones. He was too busy trying to figure out a way to save his son.

He found a faith healer in Nebraska who was supposed to be the real thing. In fact, the stories and videos taken at the events were downright unbelievable. He dialed Joshua's number and told him about guy. The kid didn't ask why John wasn't telling them himself for which he was grateful. In fact, he couldn't concentrate on anything until he knew Dean was all right.

When he arrived at the faith healer in Nebraska, he saw the Impala already parked. Scanning the crowd, he watched his two sons disappear into the tent. John cut the engine and stuffed his keys into his jacket pocket.

Standing in the back of the tent, hidden beneath the shadows, he watched as his eldest son got on stage. He watched the healer place his hands upon his skeptical son. Dean fell to his knees, and John stood up a little straighter. He craned his neck to get a better look at what was going on. Then, in a split second, his eldest was on the floor.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted and was at Dean's side in a split second.

The kid grabbed his big brother's hoodie, his eyes frantic. Then, Dean sat up, his gaze never leaving the healer's face. He looked shocked, scared, confused. John let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The crowd went wild, and John took that as his opportunity to dash out. He couldn't stick around. He didn't want his sounds to find him and ask questions. He had a job to do.

Author's Notes – I hope you enjoyed the chapter. There is only one more chapter left and it's going to be a shorter one. Please, don't forget to leave a review. It will take less than a minute. :)


	4. Disposable Heroes

"**The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea"**

"**Chapter Four: Disposable Heroes"**

"Dude, what the hell is that?" an eleven-year-old Dean asked his seven-year-old brother.

John looked up from the kitchen table at his sons. Dean was standing with his back to his father and blocked Sam's small frame from view. Craning his neck to look around Dean, he saw something small and black situated in Sammy's arms. Oh no…

"Sammy, what do you have?" demanded John.

Sam took several tentative steps forward, his eyes locking with Dean's as he passed his big brother. Standing opposite of his father, Sam cradled the black thing close to his chest. It moved slightly in his arms, a high-pitched _meeeeow_ ringing in the kitchen. John sighed and thought of the gentlest way to say no.

"His name's Abracadabra," announced Sam as he cuddled the kitten as close to him as humanly possible. "I found him in the alley out back."

"Sammy… you can't keep the kitten."

As though the cat knew what he had said, he let out a whining meow and tried to climb up Sam's shirt. Sam told the kitten to stop and struggled to keep him still in his embrace.

"Why not?"

"Because…" John racked his brain for a good reason but failed to come up with one, "you just can't."

"But I saved him, Daddy. I'm Abracadabra's hero."

John pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His gaze drifted towards his oldest son who was shaking his head as though Sammy was crazy. The hunt was almost complete. John was going to salt and burn the body tonight and tomorrow morning they were moving out. They couldn't take the damn cat with them wherever they went. It would ruin the upholstery of the Impala.

"Sammy, no."

"Why?"

"Because, Sam, I'm the parent and you are the child. What I say goes."

"That's stupid," snapped Sammy.

"_Sam_," warned Dean as he took his spot next to his kid brother.

John thanked his lucky stars that Dean was on his side about the whole kitten thing. If he wasn't, it would make things twice as worse. Maybe, just maybe, he would have said they could keep it.

"Sammy, I know you saved the kitten," reasoned John as he licked his lips. "You will forever be Abracadabra's hero. Except, he has a family out there. He just got lost. Instead of keeping him, you need to give him back to his family."

"But…" Sammy's brow furrowed, "we can give him a _new_ family."

"What if you were lost, Sammy, and a bear took you to his cave. The bear wouldn't let you leave, because he wanted to give you a new family. Wouldn't you miss Dean and me?" he reasoned.

"More than anything in the world," the child admitted as his bottom lip found its way between his teeth.

"You know what, Sammy?" asked John gently as he rose from his chair and closed the space between him and his youngest. Crouching down, he got down to Sam's eye level. "I'd miss you and your brother more than anything in the world too."

Sam smiled a toothy smile and wrapped an arm around his father's neck. The kitten squeaked out a few meows when it found itself squished between father and son. Gently, he kissed his son on his temple. Pulling back, he reached out a hand and scratched the kitten's head for a few seconds.

There was a low growl that filled the empty warehouse, jolting John out of his reverie. His gaze trailed from the ground to the man tied to the chair a few feet away from him. A Devil's Trap was painted carefully on the ceiling above. Taking a few steps forward, John dangled a canteen filled with holy water from his fingertips.

"That was very attractive," commented John. "That your mating call?"

"Fuck you, Winchester," the demon hissed as its eyes flooded black. "I'm not telling you shit."

"That's perfect, because I don't want to hear about shit," he replied with a shit-eating grin. "I wanna hear about the psychics."

The man adjusted himself in the chair and let out a bloodcurdling laugh. John twisted off the cap to the canteen and flung the water at the demon. The laughing ceased as a cry of agony filled the room.

"I'm not going tell you about the psychics either," the demon spat. "I'd rather you send me packing to Hell instead of being tortured to death for squealing like a pig. Hell is the worst thing you can do to me. I'll crawl back out soon enough. I'm helping Azazel. I'm one of his."

"Who said anything about sending you to Hell?" John said with a smirk. "I know how to kill a demon."

"If I was a betting man, I'd call your bluff."

Grabbing a spare chair, John dragged it until it was directly in front of the trap. Then, he swung a leg over the seat and straddled the chair. His arms rested on the back of the chair, the rest of the holy water swinging in and out of the trap. John only smiled.

"You know Abaddon?"

"You mean the bitch who has been trying to get in Azazel's way? She doesn't even know what he's doing and yet she calls that the sky is falling."

"I killed her," he said with a smirk. "Haven't heard from her in months, have you?"

The demon narrowed its black orbs, a snarl working its way on its face. John played it cool, kept his poker face on the entire time. This was his only chance to gain information. If he got caught in his bluff, it would all be over with before he could blink.

"_How_?"

"The Colt," John lied with a soft smirk. "Didn't think it existed until I found an old antique gun that worked on your little demon friend."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I don't care if you do or don't. I will torture you until you give me the information I want. Then, I'll send you packing to Hell to get tortured some more by your demon buddies. I doubt they'd be as gentle as I would. That's the hard way. The easy way… you tell me what I want to know and I'll kill you with the Colt. No torture, no being the rat, nothing."

The demon looked like it was contemplating the options that were laid before it. John thought he had the demon right where he wanted it.

"You can torture me all you want," the demon hissed. "I'm loyal to Azazel. I want to see the end of his plan."

"A plan that involves what? A psychic army?"

"No, just one. Azazel doesn't _need_ an army. They're just disposable heroes that are meaningless. Only one psychic is needed for the grand plan – a starring role."

"What's the grand plan with the one psychic?"

"We're not buddies. I'm not telling you anything more. For what you're doing to me, I hope that Sammy is just one of the disposable heroes who will die in a pit of nameless, faceless waste."

John stood up so fast that the room spun. Kicking the chair across the room, it hit the wall and shattered into several pieces. He poured the rest of the holy water onto the demon before reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a container of salt. Grabbing the demon by the hair, he jerked the head back and poured the salt down the demon's throat. The demon squirmed beneath his grasp, choking on the tiny pebbles of salt.

When the container was empty, he threw it across the room and stepped out of the trap. He could hear gagging and coughs behind him, but he paid no attention. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing. In and out. In and out. He tried to calm himself down. He needed the information.

"They're all going to turn evil," the demon said as he spit out the remaining salt. "When Azazel is through with little Sammy, he'll be as twisted as a demon. He'll rape, pillage, and kill. If he doesn't do it as well as the other psychics, his throat will be slit. Azazel only wants the most twisted, evil psychic of them all."

"You're not going to touch a fuckin' hair on his head," John growled as he whipped around to face the demon.

Footfalls sounded in the distance. John kept his focus on the demon, his chest heaving. Within a few seconds, Caleb Lyons appeared in the warehouse. Sweat covered his forehead as he peeled off the dirty gloves from his hands.

"You ready, John?" he questioned.

John didn't say anything. Instead, he stepped into the trap and gripped the bound wrists of the demon. Leaning forward, until his face was mere inches away from the demon's face, he sneered.

"I'm going to kill Azazel," he said in an even voice, "before he can lay one finger on my son. You're not going to get the satisfaction from his fuckin' plan. You're all going to die. Do you understand me?"

"Is this you blowing your poker face?" the demon questioned with a wide smile. "I had you pegged a mile away."

"I'm ready, Caleb."

The younger hunter grabbed a large trunk from beneath the shadows. Dragging it over, he flicked it open to reveal the inside painted in Devil's Traps. The demon looked from the trunk to the hunters with a confused look.

Instead of untying the demon from the chair, they merely threw him and the chair into the trunk. Closing it, they wrapped iron chains around it. Grabbing each side of the trunk, they carried it outside to where Joshua Harper was standing with a shovel in hand beside a large grave.

Caleb and John heaved the trunk into the massive hole. Immediately, Joshua wiped his brow and started to pile the dirt into the grave. John and Caleb each picked up their own shovels to help. None of the hunters said a word as they worked. It wasn't until the grave was completely filled that Joshua spoke.

"Can I ask what is going on?"

"No," replied John.

"John, we're burying demons and you have me calling your kids telling them things you could tell them yourself. Hell, you should have been with your kids when Dean was dying."

"Josh," warned Caleb.

"I didn't ask you to come," snapped John. "If I had known you were hunting with Caleb when I called him, I would have forgotten about it. You should have told me the kid was with you! What were you thinking, Caleb?"

"I was thinking about how young and spry Josh was. I figured he'd be a big help in digging your ten foot hole," he replied dryly.

John shook his head. Sometimes, he just wanted to kill Caleb when he was being a smartass. There was no doubt in his mind that his kids had smart mouths on them because of Caleb Lyons. He was the worst influence in the world to small children.

"Keep your mouth shut, Joshua," barked John. "You don't tell Dean or Sam or anybody about what went on tonight. You understand me?"

"I couldn't even if I wanted to! I have no idea what the hell is going on!"

"Let's keep it that way then."

"Right. Caleb's the only one allowed in the know-how. I can't say I'm surprised."

"You wanna adjust your attitude?"

"Sorry, Sir," Joshua replied with slight sarcasm in his tone. John overlooked it.

The three went their separate ways, and John couldn't have been gladder. It would be the last time he would call Caleb for help. He was always trying to add his two cents where it wasn't needed. Bringing Joshua into the mix was the final straw.

He put three states in-between him and the burial site of the demon. There was a small motel off the Interstate where he was going to hole up in while waiting for his next move. Perhaps, Irene would call him within the next few days with more omens. Maybe he would find another demon case to go on so he could drill the damn thing and find out more information.

The next night, while he was researching, he got a phone call from Dean. He thought he had a lead on the demon in Chicago. After listening to the voicemail, he called Irene to see if she could find any omens there. There were none. Part of him thought it was some sort of trap. Maybe Azazel knew he was getting close? John debated for five minutes before packing up his gear and heading to Chicago. He had to be there for his boys.

Luckily, he was only a few hours out of Chicago. He was there in no time really. Grabbing a map in a gas station, he figured out where the warehouse was that Dean mentioned. He got there as fast as he could, his mind running a million miles a minute.

He found the warehouse easily enough and cut the engine. He was just about to get out of the truck when there was a loud crash. A young, blonde girl in a yellow coat fell from a window. Her body collided with the asphalt. John sat in the car, his hand on the handle. Glancing up to the broken window, he saw two figures looking out. It was no doubt Sam and Dean.

John beat his sons back to the motel room. It had been long enough since he had seen them. There was an aching in his heart, a void that needed to be filled. The only ones who could fill that gaping hole were his sons.

Standing at the window, he watched them exit the Impala. They were talking to one another in low tones. Dean said something with a smirk, his elbow jabbing Sam's side. The kid merely rolled his eyes and continued on their way into the motel.

The keys jingled in the lock and Dean shouted out when he saw his father's figure. Turning around, he felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of his sons. He looked from Dean to Sammy then back at Dean.

"Dad?" questioned Dean.

"Hey, boys," he replied with a smile.

No other words were exchanged. Instead, John took a step forward. Upon the movement, Dean started forward as well. In a few small steps, John pulled his eldest into a hug. He could feel tears prickle his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Pulling out of the embrace, Sammy started forward. John turned to him, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked so much older that it was nearly incomprehensible. What had happened to his little boy? When had he grown up into a man?

"Hi, Sam."

"Hi, Dad."

They talked briefly about Meg and the demon. Sammy wanted to come with him, and he couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't put them in the crossfire while he sought revenge. The last thing he wanted was for his boys to die just like Mary had.

"Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight," John said slowly, changing the topic.

"Yes, Sir."

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

Stepping forward, John pulled his youngest into an embrace. He had missed Sam more than he could fully comprehend. Losing his son was the second worst thing that had ever happened to him. The only thing that could beat it was the death of his wife. His family meant everything to him. Losing anyone, even to college, was just too painful. Clapping him twice on the back, John pulled away from Sammy. He could feel a tear roll down his cheek as he glanced over at Dean.

Suddenly, something hit him and dragged him backwards, flinging him into the kitchenette cabinets. He glanced up just in time to watch Sam and Dean get attacked also. After his boys were on the floor, the Daeva attacked him. It slashed again and again at him, sending white-hot pain through every inch of his body.

The attack stopped. The room was filled with a bright light. For a second or two, John was convinced he had died. He was sitting on the floor, waiting for Mary to appear before him and take him off to wherever you go when you die. Except, she never appeared to him. Squinting through the bright light, he saw his boys alive and moving. Smoke filled the room, and he could hear his sons coughing.

Dean called out to him, and he told his son where he was. He couldn't find the strength to move right away on his own. Soon enough, Dean was at his side helping him up. His son gave him strength to get the hell out of dodge. They were outside before he even knew what was happening.

Upon seeing the Impala parked on the side of the road, his mind started to clear. Sam was urging them to leave, but Dean faltered. He said that they needed to split up. Part of John screamed not to leave his boys. They were bloodied and weak. He should stay with them to ensure they were all right. Dean, always rational, said they were weak when they were together.

Sam gripped his shoulder, pleading to stay together. John's heart ached in his chest as he told his youngest son that he needed to let go. They needed to separate, that the fight was just beginning. Walking to his truck took everything he had in him. Turning around to take one last look at his sons, he told them to be careful.

After Chicago, John followed the omens. He was scrambling for more information and was nearly going insane when it was one dead end after another. A month later, he heard about Daniel Elkins' death. Even though him and Daniel had their spats in the past, he went to Manning, Colorado to pay his last respects. The last thing he expected to find was Dean and Sam already there. Even more shocking, he found the Colt. It seemed like finally, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

John stayed with his sons through the vampire nest and afterwards. With the gun in hand, perhaps it was time to allow his children to be apart of the fight. They would surely want to experience the death of Azazel. Their family could find vindication only after the demon's demise.

John drove his truck, glancing every now and then into the rearview mirror to ensure that the Impala wasn't far behind. His phone rang not long after they crossed into Salvation, Iowa. Glancing down at his phone, he recognized Caleb's number on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, John. I, uh… how are you?"_

John clenched his phone tightly. He could immediately tell that something was wrong. Caleb rarely called to just chat. The way his voice waivered, something had happened.

"What's wrong, Caleb?"

_"It's Pastor Jim. He's dead. His throat was slit."_

"What?"

Pastor Jim had been a beloved figure in the hunting community. He ran a training program of sorts. He introduced hundreds of rookie hunters to more experienced hunters. He provided useful information to all hunters. He was constantly researching and lending a hand to anyone who ever needed it. He even offered a safe haven for a few dozen hunters, gladly welcoming them into his home as though they were family.

_"Josh's there right now. He says there's sulfur everywhere."_

"A demon…"

_"You think it's Azazel? Beezlebub?"_

"I have no idea."

John doubted that it was Azazel. Irene would have called him saying that omens had cropped up in Blue Earth. Beezlebub, well, John didn't really know much about that sonofabitch. All he knew is that it did Abaddon's dirty work. With Abaddon trapped more than six feet under, Beezlebub wasn't getting its orders from its maser any longer.

_"Listen, Johnny, be careful."_

"I'm always careful," replied John. "Watch out for yourself and your family."

_"Always do."_

John ended the call and threw his cell phone onto the seat next to him. A little ways down the road, there was a little dirt path. Pulling off the main road, John cut the engine and swore. Telling Dean and Sam the news was harder than he thought. The two had been fond of the pastor, treating him as though he were a surrogate uncle.

John vowed to his sons that he was ending it. He didn't care what it took. It was going to be over with tonight. The death of Jim unnerved him greatly. First, his wife and now Jim? Who was next?

After researching for babies born six months previous, they met back up at the motel room. In that room, John's worst nightmare came to life. He was hoping, praying, that all of the whispers were wrong.

"A _vision_?" questioned John in disbelief.

He knew this moment would come, knew that some psychic power was going to be bestowed upon his youngest son. Except, upon hearing it with his own ears, it finally became a horrifying reality.

The more he listened to Sam and Dean explain the visions – how they started out when he was asleep and then he got them when he was awake – John could feel his heart speed up. Why hadn't they called him and told him about it before? He should have known when exactly they started and how much Sammy knew about it.

"Alright, when were you going to tell me about this?"

Dean's smartass remark about not knowing what it meant only infuriated John more. What were his sons thinking? They couldn't deal with something of this magnitude. They should of freakin' called him. John told them so. Except, Dean set him straight and told him that he never picked up the phone when they tried to call him.

John couldn't blame him. He had been ignoring their phone calls for months. At the beginning, they came frequently and desperately. They were searching for him to find out if he was all right and what he was up to. John couldn't blame them. He had essentially dropped off the map so he could go hunting for Azazel.

Sam's phone rang, and immediately John had the worst feeling in the world. Meg had killed Caleb Lyons over the phone while he listened. He couldn't help but see Riley and their two children wearing all black and crying over his hunter's farewell burn. He pictured Kenley riddled with grief over the death of the man who had tried her whole life to fill the gaping hole of her deceased father. He lastly pictured Irene who had said more times than he could count that Caleb had become like a brother to her.

Caleb had been one of his best friends, had been like an annoying younger brother to him. He had been a surrogate uncle to his children. Hell, when Dean grew up, the two had become good friends as well. Caleb was essentially a Winchester by association. He always stood behind John and his sons no matter what happened.

That phone conversation sealed his fate. Perhaps, John didn't know it yet, but that was the beginning of the end to his story. He became gung-ho about killing Meg and Azazel. They had killed the people closest to him in a ruthless, inhumane manner. He could not rest until he murdered those demons himself with the Colt.

Except, John would never get his chance at revenge. In a whirlwind, everything happened quicker than he could have imagined. Meeting Meg with the fake gun, being possessed, the hospital, the deal… it all happened so quickly that all of the events blurred together. The one thing he did remember was seeing his eldest son alive. His heart had filled with more joy than John ever thought possible.

After losing Mary, Dean and Sammy kept him afloat, kept him alive. Without them, he didn't even dare to think of what would have happened to him. If he had lost Dean, he wouldn't have survived. His life for Dean's? No contest. He trusted Dean to kill Azazel, trusted him to watch out for his kid brother, trusted him to put an end to Azazel's psycho disposable heroes.

Leaving Dean's hospital room, he felt his heart start to slow. His head spun, thoughts jumbled together. Before he knew it, he was on the cold tiles of the hospital. He tried to gasp for breath, but it felt like his lungs had stopped functioning. He couldn't talk, couldn't move. His eyes fluttered. Then, everything went black.

**Three Days Later**

Dean and Sam watched their father's body burning. They had given him a hunter's farewell with a salt and burn. When the embers died, Dean grabbed two plastic coolers. He grabbed three beers. He placed one on his father's ashes, handed one to his kid brother, and saved the last one for himself. Sitting down on one of the plastic coolers, Dean pulled the tab to his beer and took a swing.

Sam sat next to him, cracking open his own beer. The two brothers sat in silence as they shared one last beer with their father. Five minutes into their final goodbyes, Dean's cell phone rang. Digging through his leather jacket pocket, he produced his cell phone. He looked at the caller ID long and hard before ignoring the call all together.

"Who was that?" questioned Sam.

"No one," commented Dean as he drained the rest of his beer.

A minute later, Sam's own phone rang. It was Kenley Lyons calling him. Standing up, he sat his beer on the cooler and answered his phone. He walked away from Dean and their father.

"Hey, how are you?"

_"As good as I can be, considering."_

Closing his eyes, Sam thought of how to apologize for her uncle's death. The only reason he died was because of his close connection with the Winchesters. That fact alone was almost too much to bear.

"I'm so sorry about Caleb."

_"He was like a dad to me. I just… I can't believe he's gone. Avery's a mess. She's been asking for Dean."_

Looking back in the general direction where his brother was, Sam wondered if his brother would go see the Lyons family. Part of him doubted it. The deaths of Pastor Jim, Caleb, and their father had damaged Dean more than he could admit. Dean had been close to every single one of them.

"We're, uh, holding a hunter's funeral for our dad."

_"John's dead?"_

"Dean's pretty messed up over it. I don't think it'd be wise to have him near Avery right now."

_"Where are you? I can meet up with you."_

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

A branch snapped. Sam turned around to see his brother entering the clearing. His hand was reaching out for the phone.

"Kenley, hold on. Dean wants to talk to you."

Sam handed the phone to his brother. Dean gripped it, a frown etched into his brow. Slowly, he raised it to his ear and closed his eyes.

"Caleb died because of us," Dean said slowly in a thick voice. "You need to stay away from us before you end up dead too."

_"Dean, we've known each other since we were five years old. We've been friends forever."_

"It's time to stop being friends, because our friends get killed." A lump formed in his throat. "Go date Rick and get married and have babies just like you've always wanted to do. Get out of hunting and stay away from us."

_"I don't want Rick. I never wanted Rick."_

"Then go date Josh. He's a good guy."

Dean clenched the phone in his hand. He never wanted to see anyone with the last name of Lyons again. He couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for any more deaths in that family. Caleb had been like a brother to their dad, had been a surrogate uncle to Dean and Sam growing up, had become good friends with Dean as he got older. He could remember being in Caleb's wedding, walking down the aisle with Kenley on his arm. He could remember standing in-between his father and Sammy as they watched Riley walk down the aisle in white.

_"Dean, would you just stop?"_

"I can't watch you die too."

_"Dean… please. It's no secret that I've always liked you in ways that wasn't just friends. I need you now. Don't do this."_

"I hope you have a great life, Kenley. I'm so sorry about Caleb."

Dean ended the call, a single tear running down his cheek. He looked up at his kid brother to see him crying. Licking his lips, Dean tossed his brother his phone and made his way back to his father's ashes. He took one last look at where his father's body had lain. Wiping the tear off his face, he grabbed the coolers and made his way to the Impala. They had work to do.

Author's Notes – I hope you enjoyed the story. Please, if you haven't left a review before, leave one now. It is the last time I can get feedback on this story. Reviews will give me motivation to get the next "The Dark Horse" story up as quickly as possible. :)

**The next story in the series will be called "Albatross" and deals with a wounded ten-year-old Dean. If you review and ask for a preview of "Albatross," I will gladly give you the summary and a little excerpt as a thank you for reading and reviewing. Make sure you are logged in though so I can respond! :) Thank you for reading.**


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